GRAVES of Innocence

chapter four

"That our teacher is sick. I heard in the morning and I didn't believe it," I lied, I saw teacher Timbuka taking a deep breath, and my classmates who were looking at me with interest, showed satisfaction with my answers.

After giving the information, teacher Timbuka asked us not to shout but to use the time to study, he left us all in silence. In my heart, I kept asking myself many unanswered questions.

"So teacher Mwashabwa will also die?" I asked myself in my heart as I continued to reflect on the information about our teacher's illness. I tried to connect the events, the fear increased in my heart. I still didn't want to believe that my father was a witch and was responsible for what was going on.

Time kept moving forward, and finally, it was time for a break. Usually, when it was time for recess, the bell would ring twice to signal that all students should leave the classrooms, but that day, the bell was rung differently. It was hit continuously while the teachers had already come out and stood in line, each of them looking 'secret'.

"What's wrong?" I asked myself when I stood up and went out with my classmates, we headed to the line and each one was very eager to hear what made us gather at that time, which was not normal.

Our head teacher, Nyerema stood up and asked us all to calm down and listen to what he wanted to tell us.

"It is a bad day for us. I know you all know that your teacher, Mwashambwa was very ill, the bad news is that we no longer have him, we have received news of his death this time. I ask you all to calm down and be patient during this difficult period, other procedures will be explained later," said teacher Nyerema, cries started to be heard from the students.

It's no secret that I was shocked, I didn't want to believe that teacher Mwashambwa had left. I connected the events with what my father told me, and I did not believe it.

"Does it mean that the father is responsible for the death of our teacher as well?" I asked myself while still standing. While I was in that situation, I felt someone was watching me, I turned to where that person was. It was none other than teacher Timbuka who was looking at me carefully. As it turned out, he was looking at me for a long time, I was stunned because I didn't understand why he was looking at me like that.

To make up for it, I mingled with other students and left the area. I returned to the classroom where many students were still crying in pain. Later, the bell rang again, we went out and went to the line where we were given instructions on how to share the tragedy of our teacher.

While the other students were making their way to the teacher Mwashambwa, I turned away and ran home, with a great sadness in my heart.

"He is dead as you said."

"Didn't I tell you? You believe me now!?”

"So you killed him? Why are you a wizard?" I found myself asking my father a question that even he didn't expect. he looked at me with stern eyes.

"Who told you I'm a witch?"

"I've heard people say, even in our school. people are pointing fingers at me saying that you and I share the magic," I said while shaking, my father approached me and then he took a deep breath.

"My son Togolai, you must know that here in the village we have many enemies because of the work that your father does. Many people are jealous of me because there is no healer as strong as me in this whole region. Now my enemies have started to conjure me and slander me to make me look like a witch but it is not true, I am a healer and not a witch," said my father in a voice full of wisdom and gentleness.

Despite all the words that people were saying, I had a lot of faith in my father. I believed all the information he gave me one hundred per cent. I took a deep breath and then we were looking at each other with father.

"If anyone else is joking with you or telling you about magic, please come and tell me directly, sometimes we have to be strict to protect our honour," said Father and then he got up and left me sitting there. I continued to ponder the words he told me.

Although I loved teacher Mwashambwa very much, I could not attend his tragedy because I was afraid of people's eyes. After all, word had already spread that my father was responsible for the sudden deaths of two people, Mwankuga and Mwashambwa that happened in succession.

Finally, the funeral took place but the words became more and more as the days progressed. One day when I was at school, I heard my classmates telling me that the end of our family's tyranny had come because the villagers held a joint meeting and reached resolutions to go and bring a famous healer from Chitipa, Malawi to come and 'shave' the witchcraft of all the people who were felt to be involved and participate in our village, including my father.

"Dad, I heard that a healer has been brought from Malawi to remove the witchcraft from all the people who are said to be responsible for causing the deaths of innocent people here in the village, including you," I told my father after returning from school.

Unlike what I expected, my father didn't seem shocked by anything, he continued chopping medicinal roots outside our house while saying that they are bothering themselves because he is not a witch.

"They will shame each other. no one can touch me," said Father with confidence, I couldn't stop talking. Life continued to move forward, seven days later, a meeting of the villagers was called at the grounds of Makongorosi Primary School where many villagers gathered.

"Dad, aren't you going to the meeting?"

"I'm not going, if you want to go and represent me, I have important things to do and I can't leave them to listen to the stupidity of the people of this village," said my father with confidence.

Since I didn't have a job that day, I had to do as my father told me. I went to represent him even though I had to sit in the back, I didn't want people to know that I was there. Let me make it clear that the suspicions that were facing our father and our family, in general, caused us to lose peace completely.

Every time we saw each other, we had to be pointed at, which personally affected me psychologically. I completely lost the ability to believe in myself, I started to live like a rat, the same with my other brothers, even though my father seemed to not care about anything.

"We are tired of magic here in our village. Together we have achieved the arrival of the healer Mabwanji from Malawi to clean our village. All those who were performing their magic, their hippopotamus has arrived, come greet the villagers," said a traditional elder in the village whom we used to call Mwene.

An old man with very red eyes and black lips, wearing a long red and black sheet, with a black cloth tied around his head, with several charms and beads around his neck, stood up and stretched out the tail of an animal that I did not know, all the people cheered loudly.

"I don't have much to talk about, I ask for your cooperation to put an end to the witches of this village," said the man in bad language, the people cheered loudly again and then Mwene continued with his explanation, insisting that the work must start that same day at night.